


Life, or Something Like It.

by DouniSully



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-02
Updated: 2016-04-02
Packaged: 2018-05-30 19:31:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6437374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DouniSully/pseuds/DouniSully
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A man keeps showing up in Len's life. Len wants to know why.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Life, or Something Like It.

**Author's Note:**

> Power Rangers exist in the 80's because.

The first time Len saw him, people didn't call him Len, they called him Leo. But the stranger– the man in red, he'd called him  _Len_. 

Leo was 8. Leo was 8 and trying to keep himself from crying- because the last time his dad saw him cry he had seized him by the hair with a sneered  _men don't cry, you hear me?_   So Leo was sitting in his back porch, hiding, trying to sniff away the tears that were threatening to fall down any minute. Even though his cheek hurt- Even though his leg was scrapped, and his heart was racing, he didn't cry- he didn't cry because he was a man. He didn't cry, he was a–

It was at that moment, when Leo thought that he wasn't going to be able to hold his sob in any longer, that the stranger appeared right in front of him with a gust of wind. 

Leo shivered, his sob stuck in his throat, eyes like saucers. The man standing before him looked like a superhero, _like the red power ranger._  Leo never cared for the red Ranger, he was always a fan of the blue one. They stared at each other for a moment, a breeze ran through the tear in Leo's jeans, causing him to shiver again. The movement seemed to jolt the stranger out of his trance; he took a step closer, a whispered  _Len_  barely leaving his mouth, before he collapsed on the floor.

Leo had seen his mom beaten-up and collapsed on the floor enough times that the next steps he took towards the man were more instinct than calculated thought. Before he knew what he was doing, he was on the floor next to him- hovering. The man was bloody and pale, he had a huge cut on his chest. He looked as old as his father, but his face was all bruises and cuts, Leo could barely look at him.  _Did this man's daddy punish him, too?_ He thought.

The man blinked up at him slowly. Then, out of nowhere, a soft grin broke into his face; the cut on his lip busted open, but the man didn't seem to care, "I can't believe it's you." He rasped, hand lifting to lower his mask. Green-  _green_  eyes stared up at him, unshed tears starting to pool around the edges. "I can't believe it's _actually_ you." his voice broke, the smile almost fading.

Leo didn't understand, but he knew what to do when his mommy would look like she's about to cry, so he lifted his small hand and started to pat the man's hair slowly. "It's okay.” He said, "We'll put my Power Rangers band-aid on and you'll be okay. I'll even give you the red one." A surprised laugh escaped the stranger, followed by a cough, more blood came out of his mouth, his teeth glistened red in the dark.

"The blue one is my favourite though." His voice was raw and barely there, a smile still tugging on the corners of his mouth, despite the blood. Leo scoffed, "But you look like the red one!" He argued.

"Yeah.." the man's eyes drooped a little, he blinked a few times trying to focus on Leo's face, "But I love the blue one." He whispered, voice scratchy, "I always have."

His head dropped back onto the grass, Leo didn't know how to reply to that so "It's gonna be okay." was repeated instead, hand stroking the man's hair still. Leo tried to remember what else his mom would say to him when they were in this position. Nothing else came to mind.

"Yeah, I think– I think it will." The man's statement was contradicted by a fit of coughs, “I think this is it. I think I’m–”  he broke off, swallowing, eyes trained on the sky above them, a tear fell down his cheek. "I think I’m done."

Leo stared at the man in his arms, lost. "I'm sorry." The man was crying now, he pressed the heel of his palm to his eye, rubbing, then turned to Leo, "I'm  _so,_ so sorry, Len." he choked off, Leo was confused, he felt like crying again but didn't understand why, his cheek didn't hurt anymore, Leo blinked at the stranger in red, "I can't stop him. I promised–  I promised and I already broke that promise once." The man's hand slowly came to touch Leo's head, it stopped right above his hair, "I can't save you.” He breathed, “I– " Another fit of coughs, this time with a sob- he looked so terrible; his face a mixture of blood and tears and dirt. "I miss you _so much_."

He managed to pull himself up, crouching in front of Leo, "Listen to me-" His hand finally seemed to be able to make the decision, resting on Leo's head, "Listen to me, this is important." He licked his lips, tongue catching on the cut on his lip, "You're strong, okay? You're strong, and brave, and  _good_ , do you hear me? You're a _hero_  Leonard Snart. No matter what anyone else says." He placed something in Leo's hand, "Keep this. I need you to– " a cough, "You won’t understand this now. Not now, okay? When you're older, you'll know." His voice was hoarse, his eyes blinking the tears away, " _I'm sorry_."

Leo blinked, and the man was gone. The only evidence of his visit was the metallic emblem in his hand; round in shape, a small snowflake carved on one side, on the other it said _In Memory of Captain Cold: The Martyr of Central City_.

Leo stood there for a long time, the sound of the front door shaking him back to life, he hid the pin beneath the steps of the house.

When Leo went back inside, his father calling his name, he decided that he doesn't like that name. He didn't want to be Leo anymore, he wanted to be the hero the red man talked about, he wanted to be  _Len_.

 

● ● ●

 

Len was 17 years old, firm hand holding a whimpering Lisa behind him, hissing a "Get in your room, and lock the door."

Lewis Snart was standing in front of him, seething, drunk- _ugly drunk_ , "You hiding away my own daughter from me, you filthy piece of shit?" is snarled out of his mouth, spit accompanying it.

Len held his ground, his legs spread out a little, readying himself for the blow he knew was coming. It takes years of experience to learn how to handle a beating- how to move, make sure it doesn't hit any vital organs, make sure he doesn't need a hospital; because a hospital meant questions, and questions meant Lewis Snart came harder at him. Len knew. Len learnt.

He'd feel sad that this was the only skill his father taught him, if he _was_ capable of feeling sad, but he wasn't. The only thing Len felt was anger- mind burning, throat clogging _anger_. His anger anchored him, kept him standing when his mind tried to scream at him to run. His anger helped him protect Lisa. So he held on to it, fists curling, ready for whatever Lewis' fury would rain down on him.

Lewis stepped closer, raised his hand. Len closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and then... 

Nothing.

Len blinked his eyes open, he was standing in the hallway of his house, just like he was a second ago- Except that now he was alone. No sign of Lewis in sight.

He walked down the entire house, but nothing. Lewis had simply disappeared into thin air. Len went back to his sister's room, knocked softly to let her know it was him; she opened the door hurriedly, expecting an injured Len, but he looked fine- he _was_ fine. Nothing happened.

 

Nothing  _continued_ to happen for the next day as well. Lewis was still nowhere to be found, not that Len went looking for him; he was used to the random disappearances of his father by now, but they never happened like this, never so suddenly in the middle of a fight. Lewis always finished his fights, especially when Len was the target.

Len tried not to think about it too much, a minute without his father in the house was a minute of peace, he feared that he'd jinx it if he thought about it too much, so he didn't.

By the time the sun went down, a knock sounded on his door, it was too gentle for it to be any of his father's associates.

 _We're with child services._ The woman had said when Len opened up. His father had been arrested, she explained, got caught trying to break out of a museum with a diamond in his pocket. Len didn't remember seeing his father plan anything lately. He didn't mention this to the lady though.

They took him and his sister in for statements, they asked about the bruises, Len was too proud to answer, but then they mentioned Lisa, and he broke down- told them everything. They believed him, that had been the most surprising part of all of this. They _believed_ him.

He was asked to wait outside while they spoke to Lisa, he was reluctant to obey, but Lisa said it was okay and the woman who took her seemed nice.

He was hunched over, elbows on his knees, head between his hands, waiting. Waiting for what could redefine his sister's entire life, his life, _their_   life. Len was scared that it was all just a dream.

He felt a presence next to him, someone sat beside him. Len didn't pay attention, eyes on his shoes, when the man next to him shifted. "I'm sorry." He breathed, Len didn't need this, he didn't like it when people pitied him, he wasn't helpless. He felt furious, looked up, ready to speak his mind-

The floor shook beneath him, or maybe he was the one shaking, he stared at the man and the man stared at him, he knew him, he _knew_ him. He'd never forget that face, he'd never forget his- he stood up, fast; taking a step back without realizing. "Who are you?" His voice trembled, _he_ was trembling. The man- the stranger, the stranger in red, but he wasn't wearing red now; he was in clothes, normal clothes. He looked like a normal person. Len didn't know if he had always looked like a normal person, if the picture of the hero he had in his head was the creation of his mind. He stared, and stared, and tried to stop the tremors running through his hands.

"It doesn't matter. Not now, anyway. Not after- _shit_." He ran a hand through his hair. Len didn't know if it was still him or if the man's hands were shaking as well. "I just need you to know that I'm sorry. I know I promised I wouldn't change your past, I _know_ , but I couldn't. Not knowing what I know. I couldn't just do _nothing_. I'm so fucking _sorry_." He looked so sincere, Len didn't think anyone could look this apologetic in his life. His eyes were tearful, the same shade of green, but somehow younger, he _looked_ younger. Len wondered if this was one of those moments: when you go back to your old house and everything looks so much smaller than you remember, he wondered if this could be applied to people as well.

"Did you do this?" He had to ask, somehow he felt like he knew the answer, but he asked anyway.

"Yes." Len expected him to sound regretful, the way he kept apologizing a minute ago, but the man's tone had a satisfaction to it, he sounded _pleased_ , he sounded  _proud_.

The man opened his mouth, about to add something to his answer, but the door beside them opened. Lisa came out, Len turned around, looking at her; she looked fine, Len was momentarily satisfied, he looked back at the man, but the chair was empty.

He was gone.

 

● ● ●

 

Len was drunk.

Well, not quite drunk, but tipsy enough for almost anything to sound like a good idea. _Almost_ was the key word in that sentence. He had a drink in hand, a pool game going on that he was winning. It's been a quiet day- it's been a quiet week actually, the Santini hadn't called him in for a job since last Tuesday.

He'd been taking more jobs lately, he needed the reputation- he needed the money even more. Things had been hard since he left the foster home. They'd separated him and Lisa, placed them in different homes, so he saw no reason to stay. Living on your own when you don't even have a high school diploma turned out to be harder than it looked. On the bright side Lisa continued her education. He was so proud of her, even though she didn't know it. He couldn't risk going back to her life, couldn't risk ruining it. Ruining _her_. But he kept tabs on her often enough to know if he was needed. He wasn't. He didn't know if that made him feel good or bad; either way he was proud.

The first job he did- well, the first job he did was back when he was in his father's house, under his father's instructions- but the first job he did as his _own man_ was a small hardware store at the corner of Mick's neighborhood. It was quick, simple and _thrilling_. It felt like breathing to him. He hated himself for liking something that his father did, but couldn't help it. He __loved__ it. Started trying different places, more challenging each time; different layouts, different security systems, different loot. Kept at it until he was noticed by the Santini, was offered more than he ever got by working alone. 

He took it. Of course, he did. He was just a kid who could barely afford a living. He did what he was told and kept to himself; learnt the business, gained some new skills, honed his talents, and most of all earned a few extra bucks. He was doing good. _For now_. He knew that he needed more, knew that he _wanted_ more. Knew that he'd never be satisfied working under someone else- certainly not under someone like Santini. He was his own man; he needed to be his own boss as well.

That was for later though, as for now, he was enjoying the perks of being one of Santini's men; free booze.

Len was lining up the balls for his next shot when he felt the tingling sensation of someone's eyes on his back. He stood, slowly, wary of spooking the person into turning away, hoping to catch them looking at him before they averted their eyes. He turned, and scanned the place; no one was looking at him. _Strange_. He searched again, but nothing. He was about to go back to his game when he noticed him. In the corner of the bar right by the small hallway leading to the restrooms. _Him_. Len did a double take, blinked rapidly, but there was no mistaking it this time. _It was him._

Len walked to him, strides growing faster by the second, his feet taking him without his permission. The man seemed to notice, eyes widening a little, but there was amusement in his stare, in the tiny uplift of his lips. Before registering what he was doing, he grabbed the man's hand and strode out the bar, yanking him behind in the process. The man's surprise grew wider, but he didn't try to stop him, amusement still there- with a hint of curiosity. Len might not have intended to do what he was doing but he knew why he was doing it. He needed to hold the man down, make sure he doesn't poof into thin air before Len got a chance to get some damn answers. He needed to- and this might sound ridiculous but he considered it for a long time after the last time they met- he needed to make sure that the man was _real_. That Len wasn't actually insane. Which would explain why he stopped at the bar's entrance, why he turned into the bouncer- Jack something, and why he pointed at the man behind him, hand still holding him, and asked Jack if he could see him. Jack gave him an odd look, raising an eyebrow, but nodded when Len asked again, insisting with a shake of the man's hand, who -for all of what's left of Len's sanity- giggled. He _giggled!_ Like some high school girl! Len had had enough, he grabbed him and got out, rounded the corner into the abandoned alley behind the bar, and pushed him to the wall. Hand still holding his, he wasn't gonna let go, can't risk the man disappearing on him again.

"What do you want?" He hadn't intended to ask him that, he wanted to know who he was first, but this guy seemed to only appear when things were going downhill, and Len had been having a good week, he needed to make sure that nothing shitty was going on first- he thought of Lisa, feared that something had happened to her, so when he opened his mouth that was the first thing that came out of it.

"Considering the fact that you're the one who dragged me out here, I'd have to say that that should be my line." The man smirked, eyes glinting, and Len realized at that moment how _young_ he looked, a couple of years older than Len, can't be more than eight at most. Len did a double take, how was that possible? He wasn't sure the last time- thought that it was a trick of his mind, but now he was sure, the man hadn't aged at all. _No_. The man had actually gotten _younger_!  
"Who are you?" Len whispered, shaking, taking a couple of steps back, _this can't be real_ , this man- was he a man? Whatever he was, he can't be real, "What are you?"

The smile on the man's face dropped, he looked almost hurt, "I take it we met before?" He asked instead of answering.

"Are you fucking with me?" Len had to suppress his anger, he wanted to close his eyes and count to ten like he taught himself, but he couldn't, feared that if he blinked the man would evaporate, so he kept his eyes on him, took a breath, "Who are you?" He repeated.

"Barry." The man shrugged, like that's supposed to be an answer, like it meant anything to Len, _who_ _the_ _fuck_ _is_ __Barry__ _?_ he wanted to shout, but didn't. "And to answer your first question," the man continued, "I honestly don't know? I'm not even sure what year this is. I just found myself right outside that bar, and something felt- I dunno, I just felt like I _needed_ to get inside. And then I saw you, and the next thing I know you were tugging me outside and here we are."

Len blinked, and blinked, eyebrows coming down in a knot, his mind caught on the first thing the man had said, _what year this_ _is_ _?_ What the hell was that about, "1996." Len supplied.

The man's eyes grew wide, " _Holy shit!_ " He breathed, "Wait, that would make you-" he brought his hand up, counting on fingers, _"Twenty-_ _two_ _!_ " He gaped, then broke into a wide grin, "I can see it now- I mean you pretty much look the same, but it's more obvious around the corners. Sharper. Bet I'd cut myself with your jaw." He smiled, mischievous, _playful_.  The man- _Barry_ , was _flirting_ with him. Len took another step back, this was insane.

Barry moved off of the wall, coming closer, "If getting to meet the young adult version of you is the reason I'm back, I'm not gonna complain." His smirk grew wider, Len was entranced in it; the man was attractive, Len knew that, thought about him more times than he should to know that. Barry licked his lips, getting closer, and Len was frozen in place, eyes transfixed on Barry's lips, Barry's eyes- those greeneyes; the first thing he ever saw in the man.

Len licked his lips and Barry darted forward in an instant, with a speed that can't be normal- can't be _human_. But before Len could ask, Barry was on him, kissing him deeply, mouth soft but demanding. Full lips on his, biting softly, playfully. It kept breaking off because Barry couldn't stop smirking, Len let out an exasperated sigh and then Barry's tongue was sliding into his mouth, licking, sucking. His hands sneaked their way into Len's neck, Len's hair, pulling _._ Len _gasped,_ and Barry pulled again, turning the gasp into a full blown _moan_. Len didn't even know he _liked_ this. The beer he drank earlier wasn’t muting this. Wasn’t causing it either. He was unshielded, and unexcused. Each touch of Barry's fingers, Barry's tongue, flayed him raw. He couldn’t bear it. He couldn’t get enough.

Barry knew how to touch him, where to touch him, where to bite, where to lick, where to- Len realized that this isn't their first kiss. To him, yes. But not to this man, Barry knew him too well, _Barry had kissed him before._

The thought was sobering enough for him to pull back a little, Barry's mouth following behind his. Len placed his hands on Barry's chest between them, firm hands stopping the other man. "Back from where?" He asked, voice scratchy, lips still tingling, his tongue darted out and licked on its own accord, the faint taste of Barry still there.

"The future, silly." Barry pulled back, confused. "I thought you said we'd already met." His eyes darted between Len's eyes and his lips, like he couldn't decide if he wanted to continue this conversation or go back to kissing him; Len felt the same.

Then it caught up to him what Barry said, _the_ _future_ , and Len had to blink because _what_ _?_

Something must have shown in his face because then Barry took a step back, eyes widening in horror, face blanched, "Oh, no." He breathed, "Please tell me this isn't the first time we kissed." Len didn't know how to answer that, he was afraid that his answer would stop this, whatever this was, and he needed Barry to kiss him again.

Barry must have figured it out though, because the next thing that came out of his mouth was a muttered _fuck_ and then some more _fuck, fuck, FUCK!_ He ran his hand through his hair, and Len was reminded of that day in the precinct, "Is there any chance that you'd hit your head in the next twenty seconds and forget all of this?" He asked, burring his face in his arms, "I can't believe I screwed our timeline. _Again_ _._ " He looked up between his hands, "You're gonna _kill_ me." He whined.

Len's eyes went wide, he never killed a man in his life, and he never intended to. Barry must have realized what he said because then he corrected, hands coming up fast waving in the air dismissing his previous statement, "Not _kill_ _me_ , kill me. I mean, just- there's gonna be a lot of shouting- from your part mostly." He paused, momentarily lost in thought and then, "I need to stop talking. In fact, I need to go. Now. This instant."

Before Len could reply the man was gone, but he didn't disappear in a poof of air like Len thought he did, he _ran_ -he ran really, _really_ fast. Len wouldn't have noticed him if he wasn't already looking.

Len must be really fucking drunk. 

 

● ● ●

 

“89 seconds.” He huffed, breath forming white circles in the chill air, he could hear the sirens getting closer. Counting the time until they reached him; a neat trick he'd learned lately. “Hurry up, Mick!”

Mick growled beside him, turning every couple of seconds to shoot behind them, “They’re still on our tail!” He shouted, aiming at the three Santini men running after them. This was a disaster. They’re going to get arrested, or worse, _die_. And he did not want to get arrested so shortly after getting out; he'd barley tasted the air of freedom. When they survive this- _if_ they survive this, he promised himself that he won’t ever attempt anything without forming a plan first, without calculating all the possible outcomes. This would be the last time he ever dived into something head first, unprepared. He blamed Mick’s hot-headed nature for the chaos they’re in, but that could apply to all the chaos they’ve ever been in. Sometimes he wondered why he kept up with the man- Sometimes, he wondered how he would have ever survived without him.

He skidded left into a dark alleyway, Mick following behind closely, “There is a fire escape ladder at the end on the left corner. We just need to get up there before they round on us.”

This was not how it should have been. He did have every intention of exacting revenge on the Santini after what they had done to him; leaving him to rot in prison for their nasty business, pinning shit that he never did on him with the jobs that he did for them. Oh he had _every_ intention of watching those assholes burn, but it seemed that he'd failed to point out to Mick that he had not meant  _literally_. He should have known better than to use those words in front of his friend, but maybe- and this is a part of him that he’d been embracing more openly than he used to- maybe he really _did_ want to see them burn. Maybe the reason he didn’t do anything when he saw Mick taking out the lighter from his pocket, was because he wanted him to burn that house down. Something in his chest twisted at that thought; he didn’t acknowledge it.

He pushed hard on his feet, gathering momentum to make the jump for the ladder, he could hear the Santini men shouting and shooting at something around the corner. He jumped, hands outstretched to catch into the bars of the fire escape- 

He felt the air go out of him.

He was flying- _No,_ he wasn’t flying- he was _running_ \- except _he_ wasn’t doing anything. His eyes had closed on their own accord to protect him from the cold wind.

Everything stopped at once- well, his breathing actually came back to life, but the _wind_ and the _running_ stopped as suddenly as they had started. He opened his eyes slowly, heart-pulse quickening. He had an idea- he had a _terrifying_ idea that he did not want to indulge.

He was right in front of him. The night sky and the city lights surrounded them, standing on the roof of some tall building- 20 stories high at least. And he was _right there_. Two steps apart. Len took a shaky breath, a tremor passing through him. It’s been 14 years. 14- _fucking_ -years. He’d waited- fuck did he wait for so long. But then he had to move on- had to convince himself that he didn’t care, that he didn’t- and now- now that he’s right in front of him, looking younger, _much_ younger than Len, he didn’t know what to do.

“Barry.” He breathed, and if you asked him he’d blame the sound of his voice on the freezing wind.

“You know who I am?” It took him a second to realize that he was talking, his voice so much younger, and Len would know- Len spent nights memorizing that voice, that mouth. the noises it coul-

He marched the two steps between them and grabbed Barry by the scruff, slamming their lips together- Barry made an _oomph_ sound, surprised, Len pressed his mouth harder and Barry melted in his arms, kissed him back just as enthusiastically, hands coming up to grab at Len’s hair. Len _groaned_ , bit at his lower lip and Barry moaned soundly, and Len hated himself for storing that sound to the entire vault of information he had on the man- the kid- and shit he was a kid now- what did that mean for them? Len hoped their first meeting- or _last_ meeting depending on who’s perspective it was- wasn’t with a toddler Barry- that would be a bigger disaster than what happened with the Santini earlier; a toddler Barry meeting with a grumpy old Len. The thought made him chuckle, breaking the kiss.

“What?” Barry breathed, voice raspy, and the sound reminded Len with a different Barry from a different time, dying in his arms- but then Barry smiled at him uncertainly, waiting, and Len willed the memory away.

“You look young.” He pointed, “I’m not gonna get arrested for kissing you, am I?”

Barry laughed, and the sound did something to Len’s stomach, twisting. “Well, _you_ have _hair,_ ” he emphasized his point by running a hand through Len’s hair. “So you’re not allowed to comment.”

Len’s eyes widened, mortified, “What happens to my hair? Am I going bald?”

Barry’s reply was a chuckle pressed to Len’s neck. He shivered, blaming the cold still. “I’m so glad you already know. ‘Cause I’ve had a terrible night.” He took his cowl off, head resting back on Len’s shoulder, sighing, the air tickling Len’s neck, “Can’t give you any details, but I needed a familiar face. Can’t really pay a visit to my family since I’ll most likely be there. And Cisco hasn’t moved to Central yet, so he’s not an option.”

Len _hmm_ ’d, hand going up to stroke Barry’s hair. “Well, my night wasn’t great either.” He scratched at Barry’s scalp and the younger man made a pleased sound, Len chuckled, “Happy to help.” He whispered.

A hand sneaked its way around his waist. They were hugging. “You’re much nicer than my Len.”

“Not sure if I should take this as an insult or a compliment, Red.” 

He could feel Barry’s smile widening on his neck, he bit Len softly, “Should have known that the nicknames are a package deal with you no matter the year.” He followed the statement with a lick to Len’s pulse-point. A shudder ran through Len. He pulled Barry’s face back and dove for his lips feverishly. Len ached for him, he pressed himself to Barry, grinding their waists together. The noise Barry made then could be recorded into history as the death of Leonard Snart. Barry arched his body into his, pressing them together harder and closer than they’ve ever been, and Len wondered how could the other him be anything but nice for this boy. Before it could go any further Barry was pulling back. “I- we-“ he blushed, Len wondered how far down that blush can go, “We haven’t.”  he landed on, bashful. “And I don’t plan on our first time to be with anyone but my Len.” A shy smile tugged at his mouth, “Even if he’s an asshole.”

Len wondered if it was normal to be jealous of one’s future self. Then he realized that ‘normal’ had gone out the window the moment Barry came into his life all those years ago. He offered him a small smile, shrugging, “I get it.” His smile turned into a smirk then, “Future me better be a gentleman.”

Barry laughed, “See you in a minute, Lenny.”

Len’s smile softened, heart already aching, “See you in a lifetime, Barry.”

Barry pulled his cowl back up. He took a step closer, placing a kiss on Len’s lips. Then he was pulling back and disappearing in a streak of red light. Taking a piece of Len’s heart with him.

 

● ● ●

 

Len was in a good mood- no, Len was in a _great_ mood. He’d just closed a deal with one of his buyers- an art piece he had acquired from his last museum shipment heist. He knew this would give him enough money to take his time planning his next job. He was planning on taking another six-month break, enough to take him off of the cops’ radar for a while, he’d been taking six-month breaks between jobs lately, and it had proven to be effective in keeping him out of jail.

He was celebrating in Saints and Sinners with Lisa. She’d been back in his life lately, something that made him both sad and happy; he'd missed her with all his heart, but he had hoped that she’d be better than him- that, somehow, she’d manage to outgrow all that their dear old father had taught them. But, of course, she didn’t, and, of course, she ended up like the rest of their stellar family. Sometimes Len wonders if she chose that path in order to get his attention, to get him back into her life. It makes him feel guilty and so he tries not to think about it too much.

He had bid Lisa goodnight and was headed for the parking lot to his motorcycle, when he felt a whoosh of air, and a barely visible red lightning pass by him. He turned quickly on his heels, almost giving himself a whiplash in the process, “Barry!” he shouted to the thin air.

The red lightning stopped a couple of feet ahead of him, turning slowly was a confused Barry “Snart?”

 Len’s heart skidded. He smiled softly, walking towards the younger man, “Good to see you, Red”

Barry took a step back, narrowing his eyes, “How the hell do you know my name, Snart?”

Len stared, contemplating their situation for a moment, then –slowly -his smile turned into a grin, and then a full blown laugh. Which seemed to only confuse Barry further, he took another step back, and Len wondered if he would get away with pretending he’s psychic, but then he remembered that Barry can travel through time so it wouldn’t be really that strange if he was.

“So I take it we’re not friends, yet?” he asked instead.

“ _Friends_?” Barry choked out, he sounded scandalized and Len scowled, how much of a bad start did future him and the kid manage.

“Yes, Barry. _Friends_.” He said, taking a step closer. Barry eyed him suspiciously but made no move to stepping back anymore, “And it was you who told me, kid.” Barry laughed incredulously, and Len was starting to get pissed, he smirked then, “Right before you kissed me.” He added, licking his lips.

Barry’s eyes went wide, tracking the movement of his lips, “I did _not_ kiss you!” he squeaked, blushing, “You’re making this up!”

“Am I?” Len asked, taking another step closer, predatory. Barry refused to move, taking on the challenge. “Then how do I know that you’d swoon if I ever tried to scratch your head?” He was taking a risk, he didn’t really know that much about Barry, but this Barry seemed to know even less than him. “How do I know that you can time travel?” He tilted his head, “That’s where you’re from, isn’t it? The future?”

Barry took a sharp breath, he was starting to look more panicked now, “How do you know that?” He asked.

“Like I said,” he started with a lopsided smile, “ _You_ told me.” He took another step closer, and they were close now. Two feet apart, “Not this you to be exact. I can only assume that it was future you, since he didn’t look like jailbait.”

“So I manage to do it?” he looked excited all of the sudden, ignoring Len’s jab, “I time travel at will?”

 _What_. “You mean you didn’t just do it?”

“Well,” he scratched the back of his neck, face looking down, embarrassed , “to be completely honest I have no idea where I am? I mean- I know _where_ I am. I just don’t know- _when_.”

Len got a sense of Déjà vu, “2014.” He offered.

“ _What!?_ ” he piped, eyes going wide, “Are you for real???”

“You can check the newspaper if you don’t believe me.” Len crossed his arms.

“No!” he started, hands coming up to dismiss what he’d said, “I didn’t mean- I just- It’s a whole _year_! I’ve never gone back more than a day before!”

Len’s world froze the moment the words came out of Barry’s mouth. His brain processing what Barry had just said- A year. A. _Single_. Year. That’s where Barry’s from: a year from now. He’d honestly started to believe his toddler theory somewhere along the past couple of years. He took a breath. A _year_ , and the wait will be _over_. He’ll meet Barry. He’ll- _Fuck_ , he needed to sit down.

“Snart?” Barry stepped closer, concerned, “You okay?”

“You’re gonna manage a whole lot more than a year, kid.”

Barry looked surprised, “Really?” he couldn’t help the smile tugging on the corners of his mouth, “How far?”

“Well,” and god did he enjoy being the one who’s in the know for a change, “first time I saw you it was 1982.”

“NO FUCKING WAY!” he squealed- the boy, honest to god, _squealed_. Len barely managed to surpass a laugh. He shrugged instead. “Scout’s honour.”

“Wow.” He whispered, taking in the information, and finally- _finally_ , taking his mask off. Running a hand through it, he repeated, “Wow.”

“Yeah.” Len breathed, and Barry lifted his head, their eyes locking on each other. Something in the air between them changed, it felt more charged- intense. Len took another breath, eyes never leaving Barry’s, he wanted to- god he _needed_ to-

“I should get back.” Barry said, breaking their gaze, voice barely there.

He nodded. A year, he reminded himself. He can wait. “I’ll see you soon, Barry.”

Barry turned to look at him, a small smile on his lips. “Be good.” He’d said and then ran.

Len laughed. _As if._

 

● ● ●

 

 _The Streak Saves Central City Again_. The title reads. Len looks through the article, sipping from his cup, he picks up his phone and makes a call, “Ned,” he starts, “There is this diamond I’ve had my eyes on for a long time.”

 

** fin **

**Author's Note:**

> The original timeline from which Barry continues to time travel back to Len is the canon timeline. The last visit (or first if you're Barry) is timed closely after the events of 1x16 where Barry found out he can time travel, I like to think that the conversation they have there is the reason Barry decided to ask Len for help in Rouge Air 1x22. Except his Len isn't this Len, so shit goes down.  
>  The second visit from Barry's perspective is somewhere around his 28th birthday, after the shit with Zoom is over and after Len had come back from the Legends a somewhat different man. Something changed between them and it involved a lot of kissing.
> 
> But the Barry we see in these visits is not the Barry of this Len's timeline in the same way that this Len is not really Barry's Len.  
>  So if I ever decide to write a sequel it'll probably be from Barry's pov in this new timeline where Len doesn't kidnap Cisco because he already knows who Barry is, and doesn't kill anyone because he never killed before.  
> 
> 
> ..
> 
> Come talk to me on tumblr [dunnomann](http://www.dunnomann.tumblr.com)!  
> 


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